


Warming Comforts

by NovelistServant



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Kings of the Arctic, Sea Grunkles, Stan O' War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26481193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelistServant/pseuds/NovelistServant
Summary: I need to work on my titles. And my summaries. Just read the tags.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Warming Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> For lemonfodrizzlecake.

The freezing water splashed against the sturdy boat, creating a beautiful song of the sea. It was pitch black outside, though only four in the afternoon, but with it being winter on the Arctic Ocean, sunlight was a rare treat. In fact, Ford had calculated that they would not see any sunshine until the last day of February unless they traveled south.

While it was true that he was more sensitive to the cold and always wore several thick layers to contain more body heat (why else would he wear a turtleneck and trenchcoat in the middle of summer), there was something awakening about the bitter icy atmosphere, how it made his every breath visible, how it pricked his cheeks and nose, turning them red, how if wind cursed them it would send shivers down his spine and ruffle his charcoal-gray fluff for hair.

Ford smiled and peered through his telescope again, the night sky being cloudless and perfect for star mapping. While he appreciated and missed the Northern Lights, it was difficult to study the representatives of Abraham’s descendants with so much commotion in the air, so the aged scientist took advantage of the quiet inky black sky and used his lantern to make a map of the stars, a fun activity that Ford was sure the children would want to see when he was finished. He pulled himself away from the telescope and began to make some marks on the dark-blue paper on the railing.

“BOO!”

“GAH!”

Ford jumped from fear at the sudden noise and misplaced his footing on the slippery dock. With one hand stupidly on his hip for a weapon due to reflexes, his body was too busy panicking to keep him from toppling off the boat and down into the sea. He heard that voice yell again - but this time in pure fear rather than trying to put fear into someone else - just before he splashed into the freezing water.

Every nerve in his body screamed in agony, lost of all his hands and face. His torso, protective with an undershirt, two sweaters that Mabel had made for him, and a thick blue hoodie, were still somewhat warm, but it wouldn’t be long until the water would seep through and freeze his chest and stomach, but right now his legs and arms were in quite a bit of pain. Ford wanted to gasp in shock, but he was quick to realize that would mean breathing in sea water, so he focused his pain into moving upward and soon he broke the surface and coughed as he wiped his face dry of beads of water behind his glasses.

“STANFORD! Stanford, I’m sorry, are you okay?!”

“Stanley, I’m fine.” Ford chuckled; he was initially extremely irritated but the way his twin was freaking out and was completely resentful for a small prank gone wrong made up for it. Really, he was just cold. No permanent harm done. “Just throw down the rope, will you please?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Stan sounded like he was calming down, but Ford wouldn’t be surprised if he was shaking as much as he was right now.

Stan, meanwhile, was scrambling for the rope and working to throw it down so his brother could climb back up. Trust him to only intent to make his brother jump and prove a point that his tunnel vision when working is really that bad, only to plunge the brainiac into the Arctic Ocean. He could still fix this; once Ford is safe he can change into dry clothes and sit by the wood-burning stove with a cup of coffee, the heating pad, and some blankets. Hey, at least it was a legitimate excuse not to push himself so hard.

The youngest of the two by fifteen minutes tossed down one half of the rope and held on tight, brazing himself for the sudden weight to cling on. “Here you go, Sixer.” A few seconds passed and no response came. No call, no tug on the rope, not even a splash to clue Stan in that his brother was even trying to grab the rope. “Ford, you okay?”

Well, no, he wasn’t okay, he was freezing cold, but he would be soon. Worried the nerd was way too cold to speak or move, Stan picked up the lantern and shined it down to see the ocean that surrounded them. His heart plunged into his stomach when he didn’t see Ford in the water. All that was visible to his eyes were some icebergs that decorated the sea. “Stanford! Talk to me!” Stan demanded.

Ford might be a jerk, but not this big of a jerk. Stan quickly shed his beanie and long coat (he needed something dry to wrap his brother in when they came back), then he tied the rope to the dock, letting it trail down into the sea, and he grabbed a flashlight from out of his coat. No sense in jumping into the ocean if he couldn’t see. All within five seconds of realizing his twin was nowhere to be seen, Stan dived into the ocean.

He ignored the way he nerves howled in agony and shined the flashlight every which way underwater to find Ford. He squinted at a dark shape and swam towards it, a little too far away to see, but then as the light shined on scaly skin Stan got a glimpse of what he was up against and it took everything not to waste his breath growling. Speaking breath, he was running out of it. He swam up to the surface, directly below his enemy to recharge his batteries to fight the best he could, then he dove again, this time more determined than ever to not break the surface again if his twin wasn’t doing so with him.

Ford’s neck and limbs were bound in the tentacles of a giant squid. Unless Stan was mistaken, this was the same giant squid that greeted them as dinner when they first began their journey. Didn’t this gross unwrapped sushi have anything better to do than stock them like a big crazy fangirl? Stan dove down as the monster hissed angrily at the intruder. Ford was still struggling, but he was slowing down and his eyes were shut.

Stan pulled out his pocket knife and slashed a tentacle and tried to free his brother. The squid squealed in pain and let Ford go, who was weak and limp from the lack of warmth and oxygen. Quickly delivering a left hook to the squid’s big eye, Stan wrapped one of Ford’s arms around his neck and swam upward as fast as he could.

The moment they broke the surface they both gasped and coughed furiously. Stan used all of his strength to hoist Ford towards the rope, who grasped it and began to climb with Stan’s help. Thankfully they both managed to climb up onto the boat, soaking wet and horribly cold as a gust of wind blew by, but they were alive. That was the important thing.

On his hands and knees, Stan grabbed his coat and helped the quivering Ford out of his dripping wet blue hoodie and into the dry coat. “C’mon, Sixer, let’s get you warm.”

Hazed and weaker than he would like to be, Ford mindlessly nodded and let his brother take charge. Stan was put on protective auto-pilot, and despite being cold and weak he did not rest as he walked them both inside the small cabin of the boat and helped his brother get well.

The wood-burning stove cracked with fire in the corner in the kitchen, the couch right by it for cozy relaxation. Stan made his brother stand next to it and he quickly threw in three more planks of wood into the fire to make it hotter and fueled for a long time. Stan then fished out Ford’s thickest pair of yellow-plaid pajamas and fuzzy knitted socks (Mabel never rests) and made Ford change while Stan turned on the heating pad and decided that now was as good a time as any for dinner. Rather than coffee, Stan stood only a few feet away from his twin as he fixed some tomato soup and dug out some bread and made grilled cheeses to go with it, keeping an eye on Ford’s skin and how it was slowly not looking as pale as it did.

Ford sat on the couch as his mind was slowly coming back to himself. It then suddenly came to him in an instant that Stan was still wet and freezing, risking a cold if he didn’t change quickly. “Stanley, you knucklehead!” He scolded and jumped up from the couch, leaving the damp coat on the floor. He marched over and swiped the wooden spoon from Stan’s hand and pointed to the doorway leading downstairs for the bedroom. “Go change! You’ll catch your death in this cold.”

Stan snorted and rolled his eyes with a smile. “Whatever, I’m fine, I wasn’t in there as long as you.”

“I don’t care, go change!”

“Alright, Ma.” Stan punched his shoulder lightly as he walked off to change. While the warmth of the hot stove as he cooked did help, he couldn’t deny how much better he would feel to be in cozy pajamas rather than freezing wet clothes.

Soon in Mabel’s pink goodbye sweater (it’s cold, he has to) and dark-gray sweatpants with socks and slippers. Ford turned off the stove and poured the tomato soup into two mugs and had the sandwiches on plates. He nodded to the couch by the fire and instructed firmly, “Sit.”

Stan shrugged and did as he was told as he swiped the fuzzy hand-knitted blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over his lap. Once again Ms. Mabel Pines was responsible for something cozy and warm in the Stan O’ War II. It had come in the mail around the holidays, a thick blue and green blanket that looked like it had been knitted with expensive wool. It was a huge blanket that could easily cover three grown men and Stan honestly thought it was his grandniece’s best work thus far.

He chuckled and shook his head as Ford joined him by his side. “Does Mabel ever just relax? You know, sit around and do nothing like a kid should?”

“It runs in the family.” He quipped and let Stan throw the blanket over his lap as he handed him his mug of soup and placed the plates on their laps. Stan smiled at Ford, hoping for one in return, but he was startled to find a scowl on his brother’s face. “Now as for you, what on Earth were you thinking?!” He scolded.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and winced. “I know I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Completely irresponsible! Totally reckless! What am I supposed to do to myself if you had gotten hurt, Stanley!? Yes, I know how strong you are and you can handle a monster or two, but really!”

His parental scolding continued for a few minutes while Stan smiled at himself and sipped his soup. This wasn’t the first time Ford had taken this approach to being “angry” at Stan for saving his life or doing something even slightly dangerous. They were sailing in the middle of the Arctic Ocean for Moses’s sake, of course it’s going to be dangerous, that’s what makes it exciting, but that never stopped Ford from lecturing him every time his neck was at risk for Ford’s behalf. Stan had learned to just let Ford rant and go with it until he had a chance to remind him that if the tables would turn Ford would be just as stupid, and then all that would leave Ford to do is mumbled how Stan is a better man than him and needs to continually prove him right.

By the time Stan was quietly munching on his grilled cheese, Ford was catching his breath, and Stan said collectively, “Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sixer, just relax, okay? On second thought, don’t, cuz all that energy is warming you up.”

His red cheeks, Ford rolled his eyes and mumbled something in his mug that Stan only picked up because he had heard Ford say it countless times. “Don’t make me lose you again, Stanley.”

Stan snorted and rested his head on his brother’s shoulder to help keep him warm. “Never gonna happen. You’re stuck with me forever, Poindexter.”

“Good.”


End file.
